


Waiting

by onoheiwa



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Uliro Week 2017, mostly - Freeform, ulaz lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-04 06:49:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10985628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onoheiwa/pseuds/onoheiwa
Summary: The newest Champion was strong. Considering how the title was won it wasn’t exactly a surprise, but Ulaz was impressed regardless. He had watched the human fight on several occasions; he was clever, tenacious. And possessed a stubborn refusal to die that had won over the cheering crowds early on and left Ulaz cringing in his seat. He couldn't help being drawn to the human, no matter how dangerous it was.





	1. Day One Part One: Endurance - Ulaz

**Author's Note:**

> These are my entries for Uliro Week 2017. They're a short series of connected prompts that take place in the same universe. 
> 
> There will be at least one update every day for the week, some days two because I filled both prompts on those days. Some chapters are significantly longer than others because screw consistency.
> 
> EDIT 10-02-17: I didn't take as much time to write this story out the way I really wanted it to be when I set out to get it all down for Uliro Week. So I came back and spent the last week or two fixing it. The story is the same. Mostly I just improved the grammar and the formatting of some of the chapters and expanded a few portions. I tried to get the emotions to be more immediate and real, more visceral, because the story felt too distant sometimes. I hope those of you who may have read it before like the new and improved version as much as the old one!

The newest Champion was strong. Considering how the title was won it wasn’t exactly a surprise, but Ulaz was impressed regardless. He had watched the human fight on several occasions; he was clever, tenacious. And possessed a stubborn refusal to die that had won over the cheering crowds early on and left Ulaz cringing in his seat. Champion would cut down his foes one after another, no matter their size or strength or skill, and Ulaz would meet him in the infirmary afterward to patch his wounds. Bites and burns, slices, abrasions, dislocations, goring, shrapnel, fractures, gunshots, concussions, contusions - the list went on and on, but Champion had always recovered, always maintained his title no matter the cost to his body. 

And now this; this time was no different, but it felt like it. 

Blood and sweat ran to the floor in rivulets, pooling beneath Ulaz’s boots and staining the walls. He stood over the medical table, swallowing down the taste of bile clinging to his throat, and shuddered. The saw blade was dripping crimson in the corner of his eye and the new prosthetic attached to Champion’s right arm gleamed in the dim light, powerful and graceful; as beautiful as it was horrifying. Just like Champion. 

Today’s opponent had been a crocatta, a beast with rows upon rows of jagged, powerful teeth set in its maw. It had clamped down on Champion’s arm and not let go. He had used the proximity to his advantage and stabbed the creature in the eye over and over and over again, their blood splattering across his face and chest and dripping to the floor of the arena where the sand soaked it up like a sponge. Even after it died, the crocatta refused to release its prize. Three guards and a laser cutter had been needed to sever its jaw and pull Champion’s arm free. He had stared down at the mangled limb in horror, still riddled with broken teeth, before looking away and marching toward the infirmary. He collapsed a mere handful of steps from the door, having made it almost the entire way under his own strength. 

And then Haggar had come. No anesthetic, no drugs; just a fervent and malicious need to conduct her experiment, ordering Ulaz to hold Champion down in case he awoke. And when he had, the saw blade deep within the flesh and bone of his arm, she continued no matter how he howled. 

Ulaz could do nothing. The other guards had laughed at Champions expression, twisted and gaping with his screams, and muttered in disgust when they were spattered with blood from his thrashing. Haggar was indifferent, focused on her task with cold, sadistic precision. She removed the chewed-up remains of his limb and tossed it aside, calmly going about attaching the prosthetic to each and every one of the nerves in Champion’s arm while his body shook uncontrollably. 

The room was a mess. Ulaz braced himself against the table and looked around, gut churning and sucking in air through his nose, willing himself to find calm. The disgust and rage were overwhelming. Haggar had left, the prosthetic finally attached and functioning perfectly. The guards had left, gone to wash their uniforms and send a replacement to stand outside the door. 

All of them were monsters, cruel and vicious beasts worse than the creature who had ruined Champion’s arm. If Ulaz could rid the universe of them all he would do it in a heartbeat. 

Champion was unconscious, finally, his pale forehead creased in pain and groaning in his sleep. He had withstood much today, more than any Ulaz had seen before. Such misery had never been inflicted on any of Haggar’s patients before and yet Champion had still refused to beg for mercy. He had not looked to his captors for sympathy or pleaded for death; he remained in defiance of the Galra and likely would until his dying breath. Could even Antok claim to have endured so much? 

The Blade could use someone like Champion. Ulaz’s heart swelled with a fierce desire to protect the man lying below him that he didn’t quite understand. But he needed to see Champion free, needed to save him and see what he could be outside these prison walls. The question was how?


	2. Day One Part Two: Weakness - Ulaz

Champion was sitting on the floor on the far side of the room, back to the door and legs folded beneath him, breathing slow and steady. He didn’t react to the sound of the door opening and closing again a moment later. Ulaz lowered himself to the floor, legs crossed and his back resting against the wall. He waited. 

It was nearly half a varga before the human moved, letting out a long, steady breath and unwinding from his rigid posture. “Why do you keep coming here?” His voice was quiet in the small room, the first time he had ever spoken without any prompting from Ulaz first. 

Ulaz hesitated. “I don’t know.” 

Champion looked over his shoulder, one of his eyebrows quirked higher than the other. “You don’t know?” 

Ulaz said nothing. 

He shouldn’t be here. He had come far too much these last few weeks and the excuse of observing a test subject could only hold up for so long before seeming unnecessary to continue. The “data” he had been compiling would eventually be deemed useless and his visits would fall under suspicion. 

But he couldn’t stay away. 

Something drew him back to this room over and over again and he had yet to define exactly what it was. This was more than a need to find an ally to the Blade, more than a scientist’s curiosity over a new species, more than pity, and Champion was not swayed by his quiet curiosity, his unvoiced desire for forgiveness. He was quiet, stubborn. Saying little and ignoring Ulaz almost entirely. Not that he could blame him, not with the memories of that day in the lab so fresh. Ulaz’s hand may not have participated in the procedure itself but he was still complicit in it. 

Quintants had passed and Ulaz came almost every day. He came and he sat and he talked, hoping that one of these days Champion would talk back and he could either figure out what unspoken thing drew him to the human, or be thoroughly rejected so he could let go of this unexplainable need to see him. 

And he had no idea how to explain any of what he was thinking so Ulaz remained silent under the man’s scrutiny, their gazes locked. 

After more than a dobash of silence, Champion huffed, frustrated, and turned to face him fully, mirroring his position on the floor, legs crossed. “I don’t-” he started, cutting himself off. He bit his lip and started again, eyes darting around the room at anything but Ulaz. “I won’t tell you anything that could put my home in danger. I don’t trust you. But…” he paused again and looked up at Ulaz through his lashes. “But we can talk, if you want.” 

Ulaz’s eyes widened. None of the other slaves he had spent time researching had ever shown an interest in conversation, even the ones whose lives among the Galra were relatively easy. Ulaz had hoped, but he had never expected Champion to open up to him in any way, no matter how long he persisted. He wondered if Champion was hoping to gain his trust, to garner information to help him escape. 

Or maybe, if the way his gaze lingered on the group cells when he was brought past them was any indication, Champion was lonely. 

Ulaz tried to will away the surge of hope, the reckless desire to fulfill Champion’s need for companionship. He was here to learn about his species, to maybe, if he were fortunate, recruit an ally to the Blade. That was all. He nodded, vowing to himself that he would come here to provide conversation, nothing more. “I am Ulaz.” 

Champion nodded as well. “I’m Shiro.”


	3. Day Two Part One: Dreams - Shiro

“You look different from other Galra,” Shiro says. “Paler. Why is that?” He almost misses the way Ulaz flinches, the barest twitch around his eyes and a set of pursed lips, and thinks the Galra might not answer. 

Ulaz has never done so before, has never lied to Shiro either, so far as he knows, and this time is no different. Ulaz’s shoulders set, like he’s bracing himself. “I am a half-breed,” he says, “the offspring of two races, making me unique among my people.” 

There’s a trace of bitterness in his voice, subtle but strong enough for Shiro to catch it. “Do the Galra not approve of relationships like that? Mixed ones?” 

Ulaz grimaces. “It was not always so. Zarkon has taught our people to believe strength is all that matters. The Galra race is among the most resilient of all known sentient species and they take pride in that. To dilute it with the blood of a weaker species is considered foolish, at the very least, and outright repulsive by most. The only reason I am not in exile or poverty is because my intelligence proved to be too great of value to throw aside.” 

Shiro falls silent as he ponders that, looking down at his prosthetic hand and clenching it into a fist. “Strength is all that matters, huh? I guess that explains why I wasn’t allowed to die.” 

He had been muttering quietly to himself, forgetting how sharp Galra ears were. 

“Shiro…” Ulaz sounds pained, drawing Shiro’s attention. His eyes are sad, watery, and Shiro watches in morbid fascination as the vivid, yellow glow begins to run down his face in rivulets, tiny streams of molten gold that drip to the floor. His eyes widen as it flows fast and fluid, gathering into pools and stretching across the floor like probing fingers that grasp at Shiro’s feet and wrap around his legs, binding them together and tugging him down. 

He panics, struggling against the golden claws pulling his body to the floor and creeping toward his face. Ichor slides down his throat, over his eyes, blinding him, drowning him. 

Ulaz is watching from his place on the floor, calm and steady. “Did you really think we could have let go of such a valuable test subject?” he asks, voice laced with sorrow and willing Shiro to understand. “We have learned so much from you - our Champion. Surely you did not think we would let you die?” He stands, coming closer to where Shiro is writhing on the floor, desperately trying to claw his way free from the glowing netting and suffocating, golden tears. “We still need you,” Ulaz says, crouching and jabbing a needle into Shiro’s neck, pushing the plunger and filling his veins with fire and darkness. “We will never let you die,” he whispers, oil oozing from his lips-

and Shiro woke with a gasp, fingers flying to his throat and kicking at the blankets tangled around his legs. Sweat dripped from his brow - pooling under his arms, the back of his knees, the palms of his hands. He heaved for breath, lungs rattling from the effort, and swallowed down the urge to vomit. When the the room stopped spinning, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and hunched over, bracing his hands on his knees and breathing deeply, attempting to slow his pounding heart and racing mind. 

It had been two days since he came out of the cryopod, the memories of his escape from the Galra returned. Two days since they had set a course for the coordinates Pidge found in his arm and they were now en route. Two days of restless sleep and vivid dreams just like this one. 

Most of them were nightmares. 

~~~ 

He stayed in his room until breakfast, washing away the memory of glowing eyes and endless pain with enough strength training to leave his entire body shaking and a piping hot shower. Everyone was already there when he arrived in the dining room, chattering to each other while they waited for the food to be finished. He tried to greet everyone like normal but the way some of them started frowning told him he hadn’t quite managed. 

Lance was looking at him in concern. “Hey buddy, you okay?” He came close and clapped a hand to his shoulder. 

Shiro nodded, trying to work up a smile. “Yeah just a little tired. The cryopod worked great but it didn’t seem to help my energy levels.” 

“That’s true,” Coran said from across the room. “We call it sleeping but it’s more like an induced coma. You should always take some time off after a long stay in the pods to rest up and recover your strength.” 

“In that case, shouldn’t we stop training for a couple of days so Shiro can rest?” Hunk asked, walking into the room and carrying the tray with everyone’s breakfast; the dishes rattled together as he set it on the table. 

Everyone crowded around, grabbing plates and food while Allura shook her head. “I’d like to say yes, but I don’t think we can afford to, especially since we’re going to the coordinates we found in Shiro’s arm. There’s no telling what we’ll find and everyone needs to be in top condition. I agree that Shiro should take today to sleep, and maybe tomorrow morning as well, but the rest of you paladins will need to keep to your regular training schedule.” 

Shiro stifled a chuckle as a chorus of groans rang throughout the room and gave Allura a grateful smile. For once, he was going to take a break; even he knew he needed it. 

~~~ 

_ “No, it’s more complicated than that,” Shiro says. “Earth isn’t all one culture. Different countries have different customs, although there have been a lot of common trends throughout history.”  _

_ Ulaz looks intrigued. “Ah, I understand. I have never met someone from such a primitive planet so I made assumptions. You did say you were captured at the edge of your solar system.”  _

_ Shiro’s brow furrows. “Primitive?”  _

_ Ulaz smiles, bland and patient. “I assume the word means something rather negative to you?”  _

_ Shiro nods.  _

_ “That only further proves my point,” Ulaz says. He settles back against the wall, folding his hands in his lap. It seems to be a habit of his, whenever he enters a lengthy explanation. “By it’s very definition,” Ulaz begins, “’primitive,’ only means ‘young’ or ‘underdeveloped’ relative to the one applying the term. Nearly every planet that has attained intergalactic travel to-date has also established a planet-wide government or culture that is relatively homogenous.”  _

_ Shiro is starting to see where he’s going. “Hence your assumption.”  _

_ Ulaz nods. “Yes. There are few worlds that are able to reach the level of technological advancement necessary for space travel without utilizing the knowledge, skills, and resources of their entire planet. That yours even made it to the edge of your solar system without doing so is an example of your species’ strength and stubbornness. Your survival is another,” he says, pausing to give a pointed look at Shiro’s right arm before continuing. “I use the word ‘primitive’ to distinguish your planet and species as a young one relative to many of the others you have encountered, most especially the Galra. It is not an insult and I do not use it to imply we are superior to you or that you are inferior to any other species. Merely young, and there is no shame in that.  _

_ Shiro takes a moment to absorb Ulaz’s words. “That makes sense.” He looks over at him curiously. “You said you’ve never met anyone from a ‘primitive’ planet before. Does the Empire usually leave those planets alone?”  _

_ Ulaz nods again. “Yes, though not out of any sense of charity or kindness. Unless the planet contains rare and valuable resources Zarkon leaves them be simply because they are not worth the time and effort. He focuses on subduing the planets and species with the technology to cause a serious problem if they chose to rebel against or fight him.”  _

_ Shiro hums. “So what about us? Why pick up three random humans but leave the rest of the planet alone?”  _

_ Ulaz huffs and shakes his head, frowning. “The commander who captured you was new and inexperienced and didn’t consider the practicality of such actions. Zarkon likely allowed it out of sheer indifference.”  _

_ Shiro’s heart starts pounding, palms going clammy as his mind races, trying to piece everything together. “I thought we were test subjects,” he says slowly, “the first to be examined before a larger invasion. Or hostages. Something.”  _

_ Ulaz’s mouth turns down in sympathy. “Zarkon had you transferred to Sendak’s ship because he finds the Commander’s cruelty amusing. Your planet was deemed useless but you and your companions were never meant to be more than work slaves or entertainment in the arena. If a more experienced commander had come across you he would have likely ignored your presence completely.”  _

_ He’s starting to shake, bile churning in his belly and creeping its way up his throat, coating his tongue. He tries to swallow it down and almost chokes. “So they never wanted Earth? We were taken for nothing?”  _

_ Ulaz voice is quiet, full of sorrow. “I’m sorry, Shiro.”  _

_ He turns and heaves, stomach emptying itself in nasty splatters. Sweat slicks the floor beneath his palms and he barely finds the strength to keep from slipping face first into the mess. His limbs are quivering, weak and cold, and everything is swimming, flashing before his eyes in watery swirls - his hands, his vomit, Matt’s face and Sam’s face and his victim’s faces in the ring - broken and shattered and bleeding - and Sendak’s malicious grin looking down at him with sadistic glee. “No. No no no.”  _

_ A massive hand comes to rest against his back, rubbing up and down his spine in a soothing rhythm while he gasps for air, spit and tears and snot dripping down his face and off his lips and chin. He sobs, voice cracking around the mangled words. “Why am I even fighting? Why…”  _

_ Why had Haggar taken an interest in him? Why had they tried so hard to fix the damage to his arm?  _

_ Why couldn’t he have just died in the arena?  _

~~~ 

Pidge glanced up from her laptop when Shiro walked into the common room fighting a shiver against the cold pervading the castle hallways and rubbing the crustiness from his eyes. She gave him a long look before turning back to the screen, ignoring his less-than-stellar appearance - damp hair uncombed and wearing the identical t-shirt and loose, drawstring pants that were in all the paladins’ closets. After a moment, she reached down and patted the empty space next to her on the couch in silent invitation. 

Shiro made his way over, sluggish and weary on his feet even after having spent most of the day sleeping. Or trying to, anyway. He sank into the seat with a sigh and slouched against the back with his legs spread wide to keep from sliding off. 

It was quiet in here. 

He could feel Pidge looking at him out of the corner of her eye and he closed his own against her scrutiny. The room echoed with the clacking of her fingers over the keys. 

“You know,” she said eventually, “I know I’m not the greatest example of healthy communication skills, but even I’m starting to get concerned.” 

He sucked in a quiet, surprised breath, before releasing it and sinking into the cushions. “Yeah. I know. I’m just not sure how to talk about it.” 

Pidge shrugged, the pleasant warmth of her arm brushing against his own. “Okay. We’ll all be here.” 

Shiro smiled, sinking even deeper into the couch with a sigh, and slumped over to rest his head against Pidge’s shoulder. “I’m gonna take a nap now.” 

She hummed but otherwise ignored him, focused once more at whatever she was working on. 

Shiro closed his eyes and wedged himself as close as possible to the heat radiating off of Pidge’s tiny body, willing it to seep into his bones and chase away the cold. He fell asleep within minutes, so exhausted he didn’t even stir as the others all trickled in over the next few hours, joining the growing pile on the couch. 

It was warm. 

~~~ 

_ He wakes up screaming, limbs tacky with sweat and itching from the lingering sensation of hot blood and intestines sliding over his skin and sinking into his pores, the smell of rot and death filling his nostrils. His nose burns with it and he scratches at his arms, trying to chase away the ghosts. They haunt him constantly, staining his skin with blood and gore, an endless stream of faces he’s slaughtered stalking through his mind.  _

_ He sits up and reaches for a damp cloth - the only thing they give him to get clean - and scrubs at his skin over and over and over again until he’s raw and red and bleeding. Just more stains.  _

_ He hasn’t had a shower in months. He can’t even remember what water feels like.  _

_ He’s still heaving for breath when the door opens, a tall figure stepping through and shutting the door behind them after glancing up and down the hallway. The window panel is dark.  _

_ The figure comes across the tiny room and crouches at the edge of his bed. “Shiro?”  _

_ He relaxes a little, at the familiar voice, but wraps his arms around himself, shivering. “Sorry, just a dream.” He can feel Ulaz’s eyes on him, steady and searching, and curls in on himself further.  _

_ “Do you want me to go?” Ulaz asks.  _

_ Shiro whips his head up, a burst of panic filling his chest at the thought of being alone. He’s always alone, always left by himself in this tiny chamber with nothing to do. Nothing but his thoughts and his breath and his fear until the next meal, the next battle, the next haunting voice in his dreams.  _

_ Except for Ulaz. He doesn’t come often, only stays for a handful of minutes some days, but he comes and he’s… he’s kind. He breaks the silence. He fills their time together with questions and conversation, sharing as much about the Galra with Shiro as he learns from Shiro about Earth. He chases away the nightmares, the whispers, the overwhelming darkness of his thoughts. It’s foolish, but Shiro needs him to keep coming, to keeping talking, to stay.  _

_ Shiro needs him to stay.  _

_ He shakes his head and latches on to Ulaz’s wrist, eyes begging silently. He can’t form the words he needs to plead, can’t speak past the lump in his throat, the dryness of his mouth.  _

_ Ulaz seems to understand anyway, nodding slowly and moving to sit against the wall on the end of Shiro’s bed.  _

_ Shiro lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding and relaxes down into his pillow with a sigh. The room is quiet while he gets his breathing under control, as the sweat on his brow cools and he stills his shaking limbs. He chuckles, wry and exhausted. “I must look like a mess right now.”  _

_ Ulaz hums. “Nightmares are not shameful, Shiro. You have endured more than most could ever hope to.  _

_ The compliment makes his throat tighten, makes him aware of something warm growing in his chest that he doesn’t want to examine too closely. He changes the subject. “That’s not really my name, you know.” He hears Ulaz shifting and senses the Galra’s gaze on him. “Shiro is just a nickname.”  _

_ “A ‘nickname?’” Ulaz asks, haltingly pronouncing the new word. It probably sounds strange over the translators.  _

_ “A short version of my full name. Galra each only have one name, right?” He waits for Ulaz’s hum of confirmation before continuing. “In many countries on Earth people have two names. One of those is their family’s name, a secondary name that’s passed down from parents to their children and is mostly for identification purposes so it’s not usually used in everyday conversation. ‘Shiro’ is a shortened version of my family name, ‘Shirogane.’”  _

_ Ulaz hums. “So what is your real name?”  _

_ Shiro sits up, slow and careful of his weak and shaky limbs, and crosses his legs, rotating to lean against Ulaz’s long, muscular arm. “Takashi,” he says, just above a whisper. “And my family calls me Taka.” He’s quiet for a moment after that, bitter loneliness flooding his heart and his eyes.  _

_ Ulaz hums. “Taka,” he says, slowly, thoughtfully, and Shiro’s unshed tears slip free, eyes closing at the sound of his name, unheard for such a long time. A long fingered hand reaches over and grips his smaller, paler hand in a gentle hold, thumb brushing his palm. “It suits you.”  _

~~~

The lack of sleep was becoming impossible to hide. He walked around in a constant state of lethargy, dark circles prominent under his eyes and his shoulders heavy with weariness. He tried to stand tall, straightening his posture over and over again and putting up a strong front as well as he could in front of the other paladins. But more and more he could see their worry, the questioning looks on their faces when they thought he wasn’t paying attention. Keith was staring at him in concern at every meal now, his large, doey eyes following him everywhere and silently asking if he was okay. 

Shiro wasn’t sure how to explain the dreams, how they plagued his sleep and haunted his every waking hour. He wasn’t sure how to say that some of the dreams felt more like memories. And how he wasn’t sure anymore what exactly Ulaz was to him.


	4. Day Two Part Two: Memories - Ulaz

Thaldycon was quiet. 

There was no one else there but Ulaz and he never left; the base had more than enough supplies for a single person, so he had no one to talk with outside of his weekly reports to Kolivan. His footsteps echoed down the empty halls like distant thunder, the lonely sounds and his thoughts his only companions for weeks on end. 

It was too quiznaking quiet. 

~~~ 

_ ‘Humans are tactile creatures,’ Ulaz thinks. Or so it seems, anyway, considering Shiro’s behavior. He looks down at where the negligible weight of the Champion is resting against his larger frame, skin soft and delicate beneath Ulaz’s leathery fingertips. Shiro had slumped against him during their quiet conversation and fallen asleep at some point, exhausted and worn out from the tortures his mind inflicted on him. The contact is nice - not the same as nuzzling a mate or night-habitating with pack members, but still good. Comforting.  _

_ After centuries of Zarkon’s reign, the Galra from the Empire have come to believe that affection is weakness, that caring is weakness. That showing weakness could lead to both which would just perpetuate the cycle so they should be avoided at any cost. The Blade knew better, knew that Galra are inherently social, and raised and retaught all its members to trust their instincts, to remember the strength that is found in companionship.  _

_ But Ulaz is in the Empire now and he has to play along, play the part of a cold-hearted scientist employed by the Empire. If he had known that Shiro had just woken from a nightmare he would have stayed away. If he had known that humans were social creatures as well, he would never have joined him sitting on Shiro’s bed. But he cannot bear to leave, not after seeing Shiro so vulnerable and tired and afraid, not when he himself is so lonely and deprived of the affectionate touching he had grown so used to with The Blade that he can barely stand it.  _

_ Cautiously, so as not to wake him, Ulaz reaches down to brush Shiro’s hair away from where it’s plastered to his forehead with sweat. The newest growth against his scalp is coming in white and clean, the small streaks vivid against his black hair.  _

_ Shiro mumbles softly, turning his head to nuzzle against Ulaz’s gentle touch, shamelessly greedy in a way Ulaz longs to be, and he can’t help feeling a swell of fondness at the movement. He lets his claws drift along Shiro’s crown, taking great care to make the scratches gentle on the human’s delicate scalp.  _

_ There’s something about this human that draws him in, that is turning these visits into something more than a need to satisfy his curiosity about the man’s race and tenacity. It’s becoming more about wanting the company of the man himself and Ulaz leans into the warmth at his side with a peaceful hum, wondering when it began. He’s sinking fast, falling into the ocean he never saw beneath his feet, and soon there will be no hope of reaching the surface. He isn’t sure he wants to.  _

_ He doesn’t mean to drift off to sleep, but he doesn’t regret it. _

~~~ 

“Ulaz.” 

Ulaz jolted, startled from his thoughts. “Yes?” 

Kolivan frowned. “You heard nothing of what I just said, did you?” 

Ulaz sighed, running a hand down his face. “Forgive me, Leader. My mind was somewhere else.” 

Kolivan huffed. “You must be swamped with tasks on that secluded base all by yourself,” he said, laced with sarcasm. “I imagine there’s much to distract you.” 

Ulaz chuckled. The other Blades might be fooled by their leader’s cold words and demeanor but Ulaz had known him too long; Kolivan’s eyes were narrow with worry. “More like there are not  _ enough _ distractions.” He offered a wane smile. “A sparring companion would be welcome.” 

He didn’t say how the silence rang in his ears all night long, the sound of his unsteady breathing driving him mad. He didn’t say how many nights he woke in a cold sweat from dreams of screaming prisoners and Haggar’s cruel smile. He didn’t say that Galra were never meant to be alone for so long or that his skills were better suited elsewhere or that he spent every waking moment of every single day consumed with concern for the human he had sent off alone. 

On the screen, Kolivan’s anger melted. The side effect of their long friendship was that Kolivan could see right through him, as well. “I have no one I can spare,” he said, the quiet words an apology. 

“I know,” Ulaz said, nearly a whisper in the still room. He understood. 

He understood, but it did nothing to relieve the ache of loneliness. He had been living with that burden for a long time. 

~~~ 

_ He wakes up to a quiet sound of surprise, a muffled cry swallowed up in the fabric of his clothes. Ulaz opens his eyes slowly, adjusting to the dim lighting, and looks down at where Shiro is curled against him, stiff in his arms and staring in shock at where his palms are braced against Ulaz’s chest. They must have shifted at some point during the night, lying down to get more comfortable.  _

_ Shiro’s gaze moves up to Ulaz’s face, his expression vulnerable and full of uncertainty. “I-” he stutters, voice cracking before he slams his mouth closed, his eyes begging for Ulaz to say something. Anything.  _

_ Ulaz tightens his hold and tries to offer some reassurance, keeping his voice soft and unobtrusive in the quiet room. “You did not want to be alone,” he explains. “And I-” he pauses, still uncertain of his own reasons for staying last night. “I wanted to stay as well,” he settles on. “I did not mean to startle you.”  _

_ Shiro’s smile is tentative. “It’s alright,” he says, soft and slow, and his eyes rove over Ulaz’s face, searching. “But why did you want to stay?”  _

_ Ulaz swallows, throat tightening with emotions he is only just starting to acknowledge, feelings he is only beginning to recognize the depth of. Shiro is quickly becoming someone he cannot bear to be apart from but he’s not sure how to explain it with words. “I am… drawn to you,” he says.  _

_ Shiro is watching him carefully, seriously. He doesn’t look scared or suspicious. Just confused. “I don’t understand.”  _

_ Ulaz grimaces and pulls Shiro into his chest, his own confusion twisting up his insides and wrinkling his brow. “Neither do I.”  _

~~~ 

Weeks passed with little change; Thaldycon was still quiet and Ulaz still spent most nights wandering the halls, his mind restless and his limbs weary. He monitored whatever transmission signals passed close enough to the base to be picked up, listening for valuable intel and sending the data off to Kolivan. He always kept an eye on the proximity alert, though, a part of him in constant hope of seeing the alarm go off, wondering if he would be waiting here until he died. 

It was almost three months since his arrival before anything changed. The word “Voltron” is mentioned in a report of a destroyed battleship, the signal having gone dark outside a distant system where the Empire had only done minor scouting so far. It’s not the last time he hears it. 

More and more he picks up transmissions and reports repeating the word. Mission parameters, multiple reports of destroyed battleships, requests for backup, and the most important thing of all - the Red Lion had been stolen. 

Ulaz’s heart soared, the hope he had begun to forget here returning in a crashing wave that nearly drives him to his knees. 

Shiro had made it back to Earth. He had found the Blue Lion and protected Voltron from Zarkon’s hands, he must have. The empty halls and quiet corridors didn’t seem so lonely anymore. 

Shiro was coming. Perhaps not for a long time yet, but he would come. 

Ulaz could wait. 

~~~ 

_ Shiro is singing, a strange melody in a strange language that the translators have not had enough time to process, and the vibration of his chest against Ulaz’s is comforting.  _

_ Ulaz bends down to nuzzle Shiro’s head, inhaling the scent of his hair and his skin. His own chest rumbles in an affectionate purr when Shiro presses his face against Ulaz’s shoulder, returning the nuzzle in his own fashion. He is not Galra, but he is picking up some of their gestures and seems to enjoy them nearly as much as Ulaz does.  _

_ Shiro’s weight against his is warm and Ulaz’s arms tighten with a smile, fondness bubbling in his chest for this human invading his life. Things have been different between them since he found Shiro panting and haunted by his dreams. Neither of them has said anything but it doesn’t seem they need to - they both seem to understand that their relationship has changed. It’s subtle, glacial; infinitesimal shifts in the way they look at each other, the way they start sitting closer, touching more often and with more familiarity. Ulaz would do anything to protect this.  _

_ He looks up as Shiro’s song peters out, falling gracelessly to the floor in an awkward tumble. “Are you alright?” he asks, murmuring in the dark room.  _

_ Shiro sighs and Ulaz can hear the frown in his voice. “My mother used to sing that song whenever she was tired. I hadn’t realized I picked up the habit until just now.”  _

_ “Do you wish to sleep?”  _

_ “No,” Shiro shakes his head. “I was just-” he pauses, likely biting his lip while he gathers his thoughts. He begins again. “I didn’t mean that I need sleep. I’m… I don’t know, I guess I’m homesick. I can’t help wondering if I’ll ever see Earth again.”  _

_ Ulaz’s heart clenches in the face of Shiro’s weariness, at having to watch him endure so much. He pulls Shiro even closer, cradling him in his lap and pressing a cheek against his head. “I will save you from this, if I can. I promise you.”  _

_ Shiro shifts, reaching a hand up and cupping it around Ulaz’s neck. “And what about you? What would happen to you if you risked your life doing something crazy like that?”  _

_ Ulaz growls, the need to protect what his heart has already claimed drowning his sense of caution. “I  _ will  _ help you find freedom,” he says. “And then, if you wish to, you can come find me again.”  _

_ It’s quiet for a minute, Shiro’s fingers tightening in his shirt. “Earth’s technology is not advanced enough to travel that kind of distance,” he says, slow and pained. “It would be  _ years,  _ Ulaz. Maybe too many.”  _

_ “I will wait.”  _

_ Shiro stiffens, leaning away to look up at Ulaz’s face in shock, and maybe a little anger too. “Ulaz-”  _

_ He brings a hand up to cradle Shiro’s head in his palm, cutting him off with a thumb stroking tenderly against his pale cheek. “I would wait forever for you. You will see.” _


	5. Day Three Part One: Misunderstanding - Ulaz

When a strange, massive ship showed up at the edge of Xanthorium Cluster hope flaired in Ulaz’s chest. It was not from the Empire or one of the Blade’s usual crafts, so he waited, breath stalling in his lungs, for a transmission, for confirmation, desperately hoping that after so long his wait was over. But entire dobashes went by and all the ship did was some basic scans of the surrounding area before going still and silent. 

Ulaz sighed. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. He headed to the nearest airlock, snagging the hood for his suit and checking that his blade was secured in its sheath on the way. 

~~~ 

Sneaking onto the ship was frighteningly easy. It seemed whoever was here was waiting for something more overt, not even bothering to continue scanning the area, otherwise they would have picked up his biorhythm on the way over. 

He stepped inside, nervous and surprised by the lack people and alarms going off. Shouldn’t there be personnel traveling through these hallways? 

The closest elevator didn’t let him in but Ulaz took that to mean his presence had finally been noticed. He wasn’t disappointed. 

A handful of minutes later, he heard someone approaching and halted in the middle of the corridor, waiting. Someone came running around the corner and he turned as they shouted at him. 

“Hold it right there!” 

His eyes roved over the figure, thinking quickly. It was small - he towered over them by several feet and his limbs were longer than theirs proportionally - but they didn’t seem to be a child. Based on the pitch, the being was likely male, but Ulaz didn’t recognize his voice. The skin on his face was darker than that of the only human he had encountered so far and his eyes beneath his white helmet were a vibrant blue, not grey, but even with only a quick glance Ulaz could tell that he was at the very least built for a planet much like the one Shiro came from. Did he know Shiro? Was Shiro on this ship too? But if he was, why hadn’t he said anything? Why hadn’t he come forward to see if it was Ulaz infiltrating their ship? If Shiro  _ was _ here, Ulaz needed to draw him out. 

He observed and made his plan in a split second and charged forward, dodging the blaster shots coming his way. He was a good shot, whoever this man was, but Ulaz was faster. He leapt over him and darted away, shoving down a huff of amusement at a teasing voice over the intercom and the young man’s irritation. 

“Oh, somebody’s as mad as a wet chüper. Coming your way number five!” 

The narration was helpful. Ulaz launched himself into a roll when he came around the next corner to dodge any potential attacks. He kept his senses on high alert, not knowing how skilled any of these people were. 

A much smaller person, in a similar suit to the last only accented in green instead of blue, was waiting for him and he heard them launch a grappling hook as he sped past. Ulaz tugged at it, pleased that despite its glow it was not strong enough to harm his suit, and turned to run, yanking on the grapple to dislodge it from its owner. He almost chuckled at the shout that sounded behind him, as well as the panic from her companion in an adjoining hall that he flew past without much more than a glance. It was good he had decided to hold back until knowing more about the occupants of the ship; they were young and didn’t seem to be trying to hurt him, only to subdue, and he didn’t want to hurt any of them. 

He almost ran into the next one, suit accented red, and his years of training were the only thing that kept him from knocking them all to the floor. Over the intercom, the voice continued narrating the fight, noting how fast he was, but Ulaz was rather impressed with how well the red one kept up with him. Ulaz wasn’t running as fast as he was capable of, but considering his size the red one should not have been able to even get close to him, the way the blue and yellow ones lagged behind proof of that. Even so, it took little effort to stop all four of them, tossing the latter three into a pile of flailing limbs while the green one was still picking herself up from the floor. 

Ulaz smiled beneath his mask before sensing someone coming up behind him. He turned, blade raised to strike, and froze. A weaponized hand was held at his throat, glowing the sickly purple of the druids, and Ulaz’s breath caught in his throat. He dragged his gaze from the illuminated fingertips down to a broad shoulder and up to a familiar face. 

Shiro. 

He lowered his blade, heart pounding in his chest, and sheathed it, reaching up to remove his hood and mask. 

Shiro backed down instantly, his expression turning vulnerable with shock and recognition. “Ulaz?” 

Before he could answer, a small figure ran forward and slammed him into the nearest wall, glaring fiercely. “Who are you?” 

Ulaz resisted the urge to groan in pain; that had hurt. He looked down at the woman, an Altean if his guess were correct, recognizing the look on her face. He had seen it a thousand times, every time the Blade tried to ally with a new people, a new organization. Anger. Suspicion. Unmitigated hatred. Ulaz resigned himself to a long battle of trying to persuade her that they could help one another. 

He managed to peel himself away from her glower when Shiro stepped up to defend him and his heart warmed even as he kept it hidden from his face. This was not the place or the time for reunions and yet he could not stop the relief that colored his voice, the joy. “You’ve come.” 

Shiro gave him a small nod. “Yeah.” 

The woman’s gaze narrowed, her fingers scratching at Ulaz’s chest plate. “Pidge, Hunk, go retrieve a pair of restraints. Coran knows where they are.” 

“Princess,” Shiro said, sighing. 

She turned her glare on him and he fell silent. 

The ones in green and yellow ran off and the hall was uncomfortable in its silence until they returned a few minutes later, handing over two sets of cuffs, one for Ulaz’s wrists and the other on his ankles, though the Altean gave them enough slack for him to walk unhindered. Only then did she let Ulaz move away from the wall, directing Shiro’s companions into a loose formation - Shiro walking beside Ulaz in the center with the others clustered behind to block off any escape, muttering amongst themselves. The Altean took the lead, guiding them from a distance as they delved deeper into the castle and up several levels. 

Ulaz felt Shiro’s gaze and looked down, finding the human’s eyes roving over his face before giving a cautious smile. 

“It’s a good thing you were still here,” he said. “If it had been anyone else I’m not sure I could have convinced Allura to let them live.” 

Allura. And Shiro had called her “Princess” earlier. So the Altean was royalty? That explained the easy way she wielded authority, which would only make the coming conversation even more difficult. But he didn’t want to think about it yet. Shiro was by his side again. He could hear Shiro’s voice and see that he was healthy and strong. Only now did Ulaz allow himself to feel the weight of the time they had been apart. The last few months of loneliness and worry and deep, abiding longing still ached but it was beginning to ease. “I waited for you,” he said, the promise he had made so long ago fulfilled. 

Shiro looked at him curiously and something about it set Ulaz on edge. It was too calm. “That was quite a risk you took,” Shiro said. “You know - hoping that I would escape  _ and _ find the Blue Lion  _ and _ have some way to reach the coordinates you implanted in my arm. You’re lucky I made it all, but if the others hadn’t come with me and if we hadn’t found Voltron you would have had to wait a long time. Maybe too long.” 

His stomach sank, ribs tightening in his chest. They were the same words Shiro had spoken to him all those months ago, repeated with flippancy and unrecognition and not the fond nostalgia his heart yearned for. “You don’t remember.” 

Shiro’s brow quirked. “Remember what? My time captured by the Galra?” He shook his head, gaze turning to the floor. “No, not really. Mostly just bits and pieces of the arena. And parts of you rescuing me, but everything is pretty vague. Sometimes I’m not even sure how much of what I remember is even real.” 

Ulaz swallowed around the lump building in his throat. “You remember nothing else of me?” he asked, trying to keep the anguish from his voice. 

Shiro stopped just outside a large doorway, confusion in his features. “Should I?”


	6. Day Three Part Two: Honesty - Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hated this chapter. It was my least favorite of all of them because it has been the most difficult to wrangle. I never liked the format of it, I hated how much I was telling instead of showing, the lack of emotion in it, everything. It was awful and I basically ignored the whole thing and started from scratch, so this chapter is probably the one that changed the most though some portions of the original remain.

“Just fly straight for the center of the xanthorium cluster,” Ulaz said. “You will see.” 

Shiro stiffened as a bolt of recognition shot through him, a wash of nostalgia so keen he knew that he had forgotten something vital. He managed to pay attention enough to hear Allura’s continued resistance and protest in turn, reminding them all that they still needed answers, before shifting the majority of his focus to rooting through his brain for the source of this familiarity, the memory he knew had to exist. He kept an ear tuned in to what was going on around him - the way the paladins and Allura had their gazes fixed on the view screen, absorbed with the revelation of the secret base and the technology to fold space-time - but most of him was lost in the past, a hazy sensation of safety and warmth. 

_ “I would wait forever for you. You will see.”  _

_ Ulaz _ . 

Shiro’s eyes widened and he whipped his head up. Ulaz was watching him, his glowing eyes fixed on Shiro’s face; focused, intense. He couldn’t handle it, shame filling him as he remembered his words from just minutes earlier. 

_ Should I? _

How could he have forgotten? 

Shiro turned back to the viewscreen, wracking his brain for a way to fix this, to explain. Ulaz spoke again, asking to be released to return to his base - Thaldycon - and Shiro let his expression show everything he was feeling, hoping Ulaz would see the regret, the apology, but Ulaz was focused on Allura again and Shiro wasn’t sure he saw. 

He needed to fix this. 

~~~ 

Ulaz gave them a brief tour of the base, fielding Hunk and Pidge’s rapid-fire questions with ease, before sending off a message to the Blade of Marmora’s leaders. “It will likely be a few varga before they answer,” he said, stepping away from the control panel. “You paladins are free to explore the base if you like.” 

Pidge and Hunk turned on their heels and ran off almost before he finished getting the words out of his mouth, talking over each other about where to go first. 

Keith looked over at Shiro and quirked a brow. “You coming?” 

Shiro shook his head and waved him off. 

Keith shrugged and wandered out of the room, peeking curiously around corners and up the walls as he went. 

Shiro let his hand fall to his side and swallowed, mouth suddenly dry and his palms sweaty. He turned to look at Ulaz and found him already looking back at him in steady silence, expression calm but blank. “I-” Shiro stopped, wrestling for the right words. He started again, slower. “You said you would wait for me.” 

Ulaz’s eyes widened. ”You... remember now?” 

“Maybe?” Shiro said. He started rubbing his eyes, willing away the headache that formed every time he tried to remember more. “It’s all so hazy. It’s more like- I don’t know, I just have a feeling.” He looked up. 

Ulaz’s expression was torn open, fragile, radiant hope tugging at the corners of his mouth, the upturn of his eyes.

“Just what were you to me?” Shiro whispered. 

Ulaz stepped close to him, cupping one of his broad hands against Shiro’s neck and looking down at him with a tender expression, affection written in every line of his face. “I cannot speak for you, Shiro. But for me you were the person I longed to see more than anyone, the one my heart yearned to protect and to save, and the one I could not bear to be away from.” His thumb stroked Shiro’s cheek, rhythmic and gentle. “You still are.” 

Shiro’s eyes fluttered closed, heart pounding beneath his sternum. “Me too,” he breathed. “I think- I don’t remember much. But I know you were all of those things for me too.” He opened his eyes, bringing a hand up to rest against Ulaz’s own and pressing it closer to his face. 

Ulaz smiled, all the tension Shiro hadn’t noticed in his frame drained away and adoration brimming in his eyes. He bent down and pressed his mouth against Shiro’s forehead. “I have missed you, Shiro.” 

Shiro closed his eyes again and breathed, relishing in the closeness, the contact he hadn’t realized he had been aching for. “I missed you too,” he said, a wry laugh escaping. “I didn’t remember until just now, but I did. All the time.” He pulled back a bit to look up at Ulaz’s face. “Will you come with us? Bring us to the Blade of Marmora’s headquarters?” 

Ulaz’s expression fell, eyes filling with sadness. “I cannot leave this base without permission from the Leadership. Someone must be here to monitor the Empire communications that pass by here.” 

Shiro’s heart twisted in his chest, the familiar sense of isolation settling into his bones. “Yeah, I figured it wouldn’t be that easy,” he said, forcing himself to smile and knowing it was weak. “Just had to try, you know?” 

Ulaz’s brow furrowed, mouth turned down in a frown. “I cannot come with you now, but our Leader will want someone to remain on your ship as a contact and I am more than qualified for such a mission. It may take awhile, but I will come to you, if your Princess allows it.” 

Shiro’s smile came a little easier, felt a little more solid on his face. “I guess I’ll be the one waiting for you this time, yeah?” 

Ulaz’s arms wrapped around him and pulled him into his chest, bending to lay his cheek against Shiro’s head. “I will try to be quick.” 

Shiro rested his face against Ulaz’s broad chest. His fingers clenched at his sides, fear and deep, abiding loneliness churning in his gut. He breathed in through his nose, taking comfort in Ulaz’s familiar scent. 

It wasn’t forever. They would see each other again.


	7. Day Four: Danger - Shiro

“I’m going to take it down from the inside!” 

Ulaz’s ship flew past, headed straight for the robeast’s gaping mouth, and panic surged through Shiro’s chest. “Ulaz, no! What are you doing?” The question came out like a plea, dripped in fear and alarm. 

Ulaz’s voice over the comms was soft, apologetic. “Voltron is too valuable, Shiro. The universe needs you.” 

“No!” Shiro shouted, shoving forward on the controls to do something, anything. “Let us handle this!” 

There wasn’t enough time; he couldn’t do anything. Ulaz ignored him, flying into the beast’s maw a moment later, and his stomach sank. He and the other paladins watched the robeast halt mid-motion and start twitching, collapsing in on itself and imploding in a shower of crystals and light. It was so fast; Shiro had barely comprehended what was happening before all that was left was a gaping hole in the xanthorium cluster. It was just… gone. 

No. No no no, please no. Not him. 

The world was swimming in front of him, a soundless roar filling his ears, echoing in his head, weighing down his bones. That couldn’t be it, that couldn’t be the end of it. 

“You promised,” he whispered, shutting his eyes against the world and begging, begging for more time. 

Someone called his names over the comms but the noise was too loud, he couldn’t hear. He swallowed through the tight swell of his throat, somehow managing to croak out a quiet, desperate order. “Pidge, scan for life signs.” 

“What?” she asked. “No, Shiro… There’s no way anyone could have survived that.” 

“Pidge!” he shouted, the roar in his head corrupting his voice. There was a pause, surprised silence ringing over the comms and he knew he should have felt sorry, should apologize for his harsh tone, but he didn’t have time for regret, not now. “Pidge,” he said again, softer, kinder. “Please.” 

She huffed. “Fine, scanning now.” 

They waited. Shiro held the breath in his lungs, fingers clenching around his controls for the long, agonizing seconds it took for the Green Lion to read the surrounding area. 

Pidge gasped. “No way!” 

A tiny breath escaped him before he sucked it all back in, still unsure, barely daring to hope. 

“What, what is it?” Lance asked. 

Coordinates popped up on his screen and he felt Pidge’s consciousness spur all of them forward. “There!” she said. “It’s faint, but there’s something just on the fringes of the blast zone.” 

Voltron moved closer and Shiro couldn’t stop the shout that flew from his mouth at the sight of a body floating through space. Red’s mouth shot out and pulled it inside. “Keith, talk to me!” he said, fighting to sound like the calm, collected leader he knew he could be, but he knew everyone could still hear the panic, the near hysteria, in his voice. 

Another pause, accompanied by some shuffling and labored breaths echoing in a hollow space, and then Keith responded. “He’s alive. Unconscious from the blast, I think, but he looks okay.” 

The air Shiro had kept trapped in his lungs left in a whoosh, the relief like a jab to the gut and head rush at the same time. He took in another breath, slower and deeper, trying to steady his racing heart and shaking hands. “Okay. Okay. Let’s get back to the castle everyone.” 

He was calmer now, reassured by the knowledge that Keith wasn’t one to pull his punches, but he didn’t relax until he saw Ulaz for himself, passed out on the floor of Red’s cockpit but breathing steadily and completely unharmed.


	8. Day Five: Healing - Shiro

Shiro knocked on the doorframe to the infirmary to announce his presence before stepping inside. 

Coran glanced up from the tablet he was reading and gave him a tired smile. “Hello Shiro. All cleaned up now?” 

“Yeah,” Shiro said, running a hand through his still-damp hair and rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks for insisting. I needed the break more than I realized.” 

Coran just nodded and looked back at his tablet, using a fingertip to flick through the data. 

Shiro walked over to the nearest bed, crossing his arms, and looked down at its occupant. 

The use of a healing pod had been deemed pointless; according to their scans, Ulaz had no injuries, not even oxygen deprivation or frostbite from the few minutes he had drifted in empty space. He just hadn’t woken up. 

Allura and Coran had insisted that all the paladins should shower and rest while the two of them took Ulaz to the infirmary to check him over. It was only their reassurances that all of Ulaz’s vitals appeared normal that had convinced Shiro to follow their advice rather than planting his still-armoured self at the foot of Ulaz’s bed to wait. He had gone to his room and stripped out of his suit, leaving the pieces wherever they fell, and headed for the shower. The hot spray had loosened his tense muscles and washed away the stink of fear clinging to his limbs and his face. He felt better now, clean and dressed comfortably, head clear for the first time in hours, days if he were honest with himself. Galra were strong; Ulaz would be fine, Coran had promised. 

“His brain activity has been on the rise the last few minutes,” Coran said, almost as if he had heard Shiro’s thoughts. “He should be waking up any moment now.” 

Shiro nodded. He wanted to reach out and grab hold of Ulaz’s hand but he couldn’t. He had his memories back but the time where hadn’t remembered still lingered and everything between them felt new. Shiro wasn’t sure the touch would be welcome and imagining doing that in front of Coran made something squirm in his gut, though he was sure that by now everyone at least suspected there was  _ something _ going on with him and Ulaz. So he kept his hands to himself, though he couldn’t stop his fingers from twitching at his sides. 

It was only a couple of minutes before Ulaz’s eyes began to flicker open, hesitant and infrequent at first, cringing as they adjusted to the light. His claws clenched in the bed sheet with an accompanying groan. “Where am I?” 

Shiro’s throat closed up and he swallowed hard, unable to speak from the rush of emotions - relief and nerves and a whole mess of things he couldn’t parse. 

Coran shot him a glance and seemed to realize he wasn’t going to say anything. “You’re on the Castle of the Lions, of Voltron,” he said, turning to Ulaz. “That was quite some trick I heard about, activating the wormhole technology from inside the robeast. I’m not sure how you escaped, but lucky for you the Green Paladin picked up your biorhythm drifting away from the explosion. Voltron snatched you up before you could freeze to death.” 

Ulaz grunted, bringing a hand up to massage his eyes and his forehead. A quiet sigh passed through his lips. “And what does your Princess think of my presence on board your ship?” 

Shiro grimaced but held his tongue. Allura’s pinched mouth and narrowed eyes when the paladins had dragged Ulaz’s massive frame out of the Red Lion had spoken volumes, but she hadn’t protested. Just heaved a sigh and asked Coran to help carry him down to the medical floor. What that meant, exactly, Shiro didn’t know, he still had a hard time reading her. 

“She’s-” Coran paused, brow furrowing, before continuing, “uncomfortable. But she acknowledged that we can at least trust you not to harm Voltron. She’s allowing you to stay, but only under some stipulations which she’ll explain to you later.” 

Ulaz nodded before giving Coran a wry look. “And what of you, Altean? Are you ‘uncomfortable’ as well?” 

Coran’s carefully-maintained expression of friendliness fell, leaving behind a tired, saddened man. “I-” He sighed, crossing his arms and staring down at the floor. “I have lived a long time. Long enough to know that what makes a good person or a bad one has little do with anything but their own heart. I’ve seen wicked creatures of all sorts and found good people in unexpected places.” He looked up, purple eyes piercing. “I can’t say I’m entirely at ease, but you protected the paladins and you rescued Shiro. That’s enough for me.” 

Shiro sucked in a surprised breath, glancing back and forth between the two men. 

Ulaz’s gaze on Coran was steady, mulling over his words, before he nodded. “Thank you, Altean.” 

“Coran,” he corrected. 

“Coran, then. I hope I stay worthy of your trust.” 

Coran nodded, pulling up his tablet again and skimming through it briefly. “Your vitals all look fine and you didn’t sustain any injuries, but let me know if you start experiencing anything odd - memory difficulties, rapid breathing or heart rate, tingling fingers, that sort of thing. Otherwise you’re free to do what you like. Shiro can find an empty room for you when you’re ready.” He executed a small bow in return of Ulaz’s nod of thanks and strode from the room and off toward the bridge. 

Shiro watched him go, tension rising in him now that he was alone with Ulaz. He turned his attention back to said Galra and found him moving to adjust his pillows to recline more comfortably against the back of the bed. Shiro took a breath. “You-” his throat tightened with remembered terror and he swallowed around it, mouth dry and scraping. “That was extremely dangerous.” 

Ulaz’s gaze was patient, steady. “Yes.” 

His stomach churned, bile swirling in his belly, and he bit back a cough that would have turned into a choke. He tried to be composed and reasonable, but his voice came out strangled and laced with his fear. “You could have died.” 

“Yes,” Ulaz said again, calm like Shiro wished he could be. 

He cracked, the strained tension in the room breaking with a shout, accusing and angry. “You could have died and you would have left me alone  _ again _ !” Tears welled in his eyes, threatening to spill over, and his chest was tight with the crushing maelstrom of his emotions. He ached, had for a long time without even knowing why or wanting to acknowledge it, and he couldn’t quell the need to lash out and make someone else hurt too, to make  _ Ulaz _ hurt. 

“Taka.” 

His eyes widened, hit with a slew of memories edged in softness and warmth, and his heart clenched at the look on Ulaz’s face. 

“I’m so sorry, Taka,” Ulaz said, voice laced with sorrow. Not for what he had done today, Shiro knew, Ulaz would likely never regret risking his own life to save Shiro’s, but for having to leave him for so long. He didn’t need to say the words for Shiro to hear them. 

The tears he’d been holding back spilled free and Shiro crumbled, stumbling toward the bed and into Ulaz’s chest with a choked sob. Broad shoulders curled over him as Ulaz pulled Shiro into his lap, cradling him close and pressing kisses into his hair. 

“I’m sorry,” Ulaz repeated. “I ached to leave you on your own. I spent days trying to think of another way, but they were all too dangerous and I didn’t have enough time-” 

Shiro shook his head, cutting him off. “I know. God, I know, you don’t have to apologize. I don’t know why I said that, it’s not your fault.” 

Ulaz was quiet for a moment, still, before he seemed to let go of his protests and settled further into the bed, nuzzling the top of Shiro’s head. “I have missed you,” he murmured. 

A fresh wave of tears washed over him, reminded of the past few weeks of aching loneliness that hounded him like a stake lodged lodged in his chest. “I missed you too.” He pushed himself into Ulaz’s embrace, letting his scent and his warmth begin to dispel the ache. “Please. Don’t leave again.” 

Ulaz shook his head and tightened his arms. “No, Shiro. I will not leave you again. I promise.” 

They stayed like that for a long time.


	9. Day Six: Starlight - Shiro (Epilogue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the one that was expanded the most. There is a lot more to it than in the original version of the story. I like it a lot better.

The training bot collapsed in a shower of sparks and disappeared into the floor. Shiro exhaled, easing the breath from his lungs and trying to calm his rabbiting heart. His fingers were still twitching. 

“Training sequence level four, complete,” the ship’s computer said. 

Shiro used his shoulder to wipe off the sweat beading on his forehead. His arms and legs were aching, muscles sore and aching while his lungs were screaming for a break. But his eyes were still darting toward shadowy corners and imagined apparitions. He hefted his bayard. “Begin level five.” 

“End training sequence,” a voice said before the next bot could drop from the ceiling. 

Shiro turned to see Ulaz standing in the doorway, watching him. His brow furrowed. “Is it that late already?” 

Ulaz nodded. “Yes.”  

Shiro sighed and let his bayard dissolve back into his suit. “Sorry,” he said, walking over. “Lost track of time.” 

Ulaz shook his head, reaching out to wrap his hand around Shiro’s hip and pull him close. “You do not need to apologize. You do need sleep, however.” 

His racing mind and restless limbs didn’t agree but Shiro nodded anyway, hands resting against Ulaz’s chest. “Yeah, okay.” 

Ulaz bent and pressed a kiss to his hair before stepping back and grasping Shiro’s wrist and palm in his own much larger hand and pulling him toward their room. 

The castle lights were eerie in Shiro’s exhausted, anxious state, the blue strips of light lining the halls too similar to Galra prison cells and dim corridors. He closed his eyes, trusting Ulaz to guide him safely while he tried to wrestle his demons into submission. He didn’t open them until he heard the sound of a door sliding open, welcomed into the soft glow of their room. 

The lights had been a group effort. Lance had found the cave larvae, tiny creatures down in the catacombs of a planet they freed from the Empire’s control, but it was Hunk’s idea to bring a bunch of them back to the castle to try and harvest their soft, blue light. Pidge had made thousands of miniature lights with the substance they secreted and the paladins had spent an entire afternoon tacking them onto their ceilings in their favorite constellations. It wasn’t quite the same as the fluorescent-fueled stickers from back on Earth, but it was close enough to be comforting. 

Shiro felt the clamor in his head quiet a little at the sight and headed straight for the bed, planning to fall face first into the mattress in the hope that he fell asleep while his tired limbs were still weighing him down. Ulaz’s grip on his hand didn’t lessen, though, and he was jolted to a stop. He turned around with a questioning look. “I thought you said I needed to sleep?” 

Ulaz’s lip quirked. “Indulge me for a moment,” he said, clearly pleased that he had used the phrase correctly when Shiro didn’t immediately correct him. 

Shiro sighed. “Alright, what?” 

Ulaz gave a gentle tug on his arm and headed for the bathroom, nose crinkling. “Galra are sensitive to smell and you have been training for hours.” 

Shiro lifted his free arm and sniffed. Okay, yeah. Point taken. He stripped out of his shirt and pants while Ulaz got the water running and removed his own clothes as well. They climbed in the shower together and Shiro spent the first few minutes just standing under the spray and soaking in the heat. Steam billowed out and fogged the glass door as he leaned back against Ulaz’s chest and let him start lathering his hair and scrubbing his neck and shoulders. The firm strokes forced his muscles into relaxing and a little more of the tension lining his spine and his mouth drained away with the soap suds. He hummed. “That feels nice.” 

“You pushed yourself too hard today,” Ulaz said, thumbs kneading into the space between his shoulder blades and the small of his back. 

Shiro tipped his head forward, letting the water batter his head and run off the ends of his hair in heavy streams. “Couldn’t stop thinking,” he said, chin tucked to his chest and swaying on on his feet. 

“I know,” Ulaz said. “But tell me next time.” 

He nodded. “Yeah. Okay.” 

He let Ulaz finish washing his body and towel him down after, efficient but so very gentle. They both pulled on loose pants and t-shirts to sleep in and climbed into bed, Ulaz on his back and Shiro draped over him like a blanket. Ulaz’s chest rose and fell beneath his cheek, breaths drifting in and out of his lungs with ease despite the weight of Shiro’s body pressing down on him. Shiro sank into the cadence, matching his breaths, and this, finally, was when he relaxed completely, boneless and soft and still. 

Ulaz shifted a little, readjusting his thighs where they were pressed against Shiro’s legs, and rested one of his hands on Shiro’s back. “Allura said we will be drawing close to the planet the Taujeerians are attempting to colonize sometime tomorrow,” he said, hushed in the still room. “She plans to send a couple of the younger paladins down to check in with them.” 

Shiro muttered an acknowledgment, the exact words lost somewhere in Ulaz’s chest where he had buried his face. 

Ulaz chuckled and started stroking his hand up and down Shiro’s spine and humming, more a steady, rhythmic drone than any kind of melody. The vibrations were soothing. 

Shiro made a pleased sound and curled his fingers in Ulaz’s shirt, focusing on the sound of Ulaz’s voice as it drifted into the corners of the room and settled to the floor. It drowned out his frantic, chaotic thoughts, gentle and calming. He looked up at the ceiling, reciting the names of the stars to himself so he wouldn’t forget them. 

Exhaustion claimed him and they slept under the stars. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](https://onoheiwa.tumblr.com).


End file.
